


Crush

by lockmyheart



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: First Crush, Humor, M/M, Post-Prison, childhood crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21685657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockmyheart/pseuds/lockmyheart
Summary: Mickey won't tell Ian who his first crush was.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 36
Kudos: 331





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little thing I wrote because I needed more words during nanowrimo.

The question came out of no where. Ian and Mickey were sitting on either end of the sofa, their legs tangled together with a blanket thrown across them. It was their version of cuddling. Mickey was playing some mindless game on his phone while Ian was reading a book that, to Mickey, looked boring as hell. Ever since prison, Ian had been obsessed with reading. It was fine though, Mickey honestly welcomed any of Ian’s hobbies that didn’t include shaking his ass or preaching about Jesus. 

“Who was your first crush?”

Mickey looked up from his game with his eyebrows raised. “What? Where’d that come from?” 

“Just started wondering, they’re talking about crushes in my book.” Ian didn’t look up from the page he was on. “I bet it wasn’t me.”

Mickey snorted and rolled his eyes. He went back to the game. “Yeah, bitch, you wish.”

He could feel Ian looking at him now, and he smirked behind his phone. Ian, the conceited fucker, had probably assumed it _was_ him, no matter what he claimed. “Who then?”

Mickey shrugged. “Just someone. Not important.”

Ian placed his book upside down on his thighs to keep his place. “Now you need to tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re being weirdly secretive about it and my curiosity has officially been peaked.”

“I’ll tell you over my dead body,” Mickey said casually, thumbs clicking away on his phone. He’d almost crushed this level that he’d been stuck on for an hour now. 

“Is it embarrassing? A celebrity? Mine was Justin Timberlake, is it worse than that?”

Mickey almost shuddered. “Way worse than that.” His eyes flickered up to meet Ian’s. He was looking at Mickey intensely, like he was a riddle he needed to figure out. “Let it go, man.”

“Steven Seagal?”

“Hot, but nah.”

“Hm.” Ian reluctantly picked his book back up, but he didn’t turn his pages as quickly as he usually would. After another minute, he asked, “John Travolta?”

“The fuck?” Mickey had to laugh. “No?”

“Hey, I know you’ve seen Grease, you’ve referenced it.”

“Sure I’ve _seen_ it. Not him, but good try.”

Ian groaned, and Mickey chuckled, burrowing further into the couch and whooping as he won the fucking level, finally.   
  


* * *

  
“Is it a cartoon character?”

“Is what a cartoon character?”

“Your first crush.”

Mickey wiped the corner of his mouth, raising his eyebrows. “Seriously? You come in my mouth and the first thing on your mind is if I want to fuck a drawing?”

“Hey, lots of people do!”

Mickey huffed out a breath, getting up from his knees. “Well, I don’t.” He grabbed Ian’s right hand and pressed it to his crotch, where he was still hard. “Gonna do somethin’ about this or are you gonna keep talking, Gallagher?”  
  


* * *

  
The next time it came up it was over breakfast. Ian was watching Mickey over the brim of his coffee mug, nearly unblinking. “Can you at least tell me if it’s a real person?”

Mickey didn’t even need to ask what he was talking about this time. Ian had been bringing it up and random intervals for two weeks now, chipping away at Mickey a little at a time to try and wear him down. It was his usual strategy, but Mickey wouldn’t give it to him this time. 

“Give it up, Gallagher, I told you I won’t tell you.”

“Mickey!” Ian’s voice took on a whiny quality. “Come on, I won’t tease you. I don’t even really care, I just —”

“Oh, have you been nagging for weeks because you don’t care?”

“It’s just because you’re not telling me that’s making me so curious. It wouldn’t even be a big deal if you’d have just told me when I first asked.”

“It’s never gonna happen, Gallagher.” Mickey bit into his banana pancakes just as Freddie started bawling upstairs. Mickey was so sick of kids and babies, he couldn’t wait until he and Ian had enough scraped together so they could look into renting their own place. 

“What’s never gonna happen?” Debbie came bouncing down the stairs, Franny following her closely. Franny was cute as hell, but kind of a brat. She took after her mother. The only decent kid in this house was Liam, though a fucking oddball. 

“Mickey won’t tell me who his first crush was.”

“Ian, for fuck’s sake!”

Debbie pulled the fridge open, wrinkled her nose, and closed it again. “You got spare pancakes?” She grabbed two before Ian or Mickey could protest. She buttered them up, looking at the two of them. “You consider the fact that he won’t tell you cause it was you, Ian?”

“It’s not him,” “It’s not me,” they said at the same time. 

“Huh.” Debbie bit into her pancake and handed the other one to Franny. She raised her eyes to the stairs as a bleary-eyed Lip came stumbling down with his spawn on his arm. “You look like death,” she stated. 

“Thanks. I need coffee.”

Ian raised the can Mickey had put on. “Mickey’s got you covered.”

“Fuck, thanks man.” Lip plopped down on the chair at the end of the table. His hair was a mess, his t-shirt had something that must be vomit on the shoulder, and he looked a bit like he was sleep-walking. Mickey reminded himself to keep Ian far away from all thoughts on having kids. 

“What’re we talking about?” Lip asked, in a clear attempt at sounding human. In his arms, Freddie was passed out, his lips half open and adorably pursed where his face was squished against Lip’s shoulder. 

Okay, so maybe babies were cute _sometimes._

“Mickey’s secret crush,” Debbie filled him in. “Okay, gotta go. See you idiots later.” She grabbed Franny’s hand, brushed her free hand over Freddie’s bald head as she passed, and rushed out the door. 

Lip inhaled half his cup of coffee in one swallow, moaning. “Fuck, that’s good. What’d she mean secret crush, you guys seeing other people again?”

“Fuck no,” Mickey said. “We’re not doing that again.”

“No, we’re not,” Ian agreed and Mickey fought back a smile. As much as he’d hated their little venture into dating other people, seeing Ian mad with jealousy had done all kinds of things to him. Ian had staked his claim and staked it hard an good. “Mickey just won’t tell me who his first crush was because it’s so embarrassing.”

“Can’t be worse than Justin Timberlake,” Lip suggested. 

“That’s what I said.”

“Oh my god, this is literally none of anyone’s business,” Mickey sighed, beginning to get truly exasperated now. “It’s not a big deal.”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, you’d tell me.”

Lip patted Freddie on the back absentmindedly. “Maybe he still has a crush on this dude.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed and he shot Mickey a deadly glare. 

Mickey threw his hands up. “What? No, of course not. Gross. Fuck. You all need to get off my fuckin’ dick.”

Lip looked more awake now when he’d had coffee in him, though the vomit on his shirt wasn’t doing much to make him appear well-adjusted. “Well, have you asked him if it’s someone you know?”

Ian’s head swiveled towards Mickey again. “Is it someone I know?”

Mickey stood up, the chair scraping across the floor. He picked up his plate and glass. “This ain’t a guessing game, give it up. And you,” he pointed at Lip. “Don’t encourage him.”

Lip pointed back at him, his eyes on Ian. “That’s a yes to that.”

Mickey groaned and went over to the sink, dumping the dishes there.

“Mickey! Who? Someone we went to school with? I _promise_ I won’t tease or judge you.”

“Curiosity killed the fuckin’ cat,” Mickey reminded him.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Lip added, snapping his fingers like he’d made a point.

“Fuck the both of you. I’m going to work.”

As annoyed as he was, he still leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Ian’s lips before he left. “Bye, bitches.”  
  


* * *

  
“Mickey?”

“Hmm?” 

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey from behind, nuzzling into his neck. Mickey smiled, leaning back against him. “Tell me.”

“Oh, my god.” Mickey squirmed out of Ian’s arms. “Let it go, fuck.”

“It’s driving me crazy!” Ian ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly. “I’m going over literally anyone I’ve ever known. What, who is it, Mick, is it Kev?”

“Kev?” Mickey laughed. “Your guesses are getting worse and worse.“

“What? Kev’s hot.”

“Yeah, no. Not my type.”

“I don’t even know what your type _is_ aside from me.” Ian was whining again. 

“Follow that route then,” Mickey said, giving his first, and only, hint yet, smirking as he pushed past Ian and out of their bedroom. 

Behind him, Ian’s cogs were turning.   
  


* * *

  
“Is it another redhead?”

“Hmm. Nope.”

“But someone who looks like me?”

“Eh.”

“For fuck’s sake, Mickey!”  
  


* * *

  
“Okay.” Ian cornered Mickey in the bathroom one morning as he was brushing his teeth. “If he doesn’t look like me, does he act like me?”

Mickey spit in the sink. “Batshit crazy and annoying as fuck? Well, yeah, kinda.”

Ian groaned, his eyes burning into the back of Mickey’s head. Mickey hadn’t yet decided if his persistence was more funny or irritating. As of now, it was a 50/50 split. “You know I’m not going to give up.”

Mickey dropped his tooth brush into the holder. “I’m starting to realize that.”

“Mick,” Ian purred, drawing the name out. He spun Mickey around and kissed him, pushing him up against the sink. As if a thorough make-out session was going to get Mickey to spill. Well, Mickey would certainly let him try if this was how he was going to do it.

He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Ian and pulling him close.

“God, again?” Lip kicked the door to the bathroom open and unzipped without batting an eye at what was going on by the sink. “Other people use this bathroom, you know.”

“Can you not piss right in front of me, god,” Mickey complained, pointedly not looking and pushing Ian off him. “Gross.”

“Says the guy who’s taken a shit in front of other guys in prison.” Lip zipped his pants back up and shouldered past Ian to the sink. 

“That’s different, man.”

“You’ve got your own room, fucking use it.”

When he left the bathroom, it only took Ian and Mickey three seconds to get back into it after a shared little snicker.  
  


* * *

  
Mickey was watching some shitty midnight reruns of a crime show when the couch dipped next to him. He was expecting Ian, but the feet that popped up on the coffee table didn’t belong to his boyfriend. 

“Sup?” Lip asked, crossing his legs at the ankles. 

“Where’s the spawn?” Mickey kept his eyes on the TV as a tired looking detective interrogated an addict with way too straight and white teeth to be a convincing meth-head. 

“Asleep. Finally.” Lip sounded as bone-tired as he looked. Mickey almost felt bad for him. 

They sat in silence as the crime show finished with a predictable ending. Another one started immediately after. 

“Are you waiting up for Ian or something?”

Mickey snorted and replied too quickly to be convincing. “No.”

Lip laughed. “You’re whipped, man.”

“Shut up.”

“Does he know yet?”

“Hm?”

Mickey felt Lip’s eyes on the side of his face. “Your first crush. Has he figured it out yet?”

Something in Lip’s voice made Mickey stiffen and he glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “No,” he said, slowly. “And he’s not going to.”

“Good.” Lip said it as if…

“Oh, fuck.” Mickey groaned. His head fell back against the couch. “You fucking _know?”_

Lip chuckled. “Yeah. Sorry.”

If Mickey had something to shoot himself with right here and now he would have done it. 

He started explaining before he could stop himself. “It was a long fuckin’ time ago, okay, don’t go getting a big fucking head about it. I could kill you this quick.” He snapped his fingers as he lowered himself further into the couch. If he lowered himself enough maybe he would disappear. 

“I won’t.” Fucking Lip. He was grinning, Mickey could hear it in his dumb smug voice. 

“I mean, I was like twelve, it barely counts,” Mickey grumbled. “How the fuck did you know anyway?”

“When you got secretive I put two and two together. I’m flattered. I remember you as a kid.”

“Fuck me.” Mickey squeezed his eyes together. Mortification pulsed in his veins. He wished _he_ didn’t remember himself as a clueless kid. “Don’t tell Ian.”

The living room door shut with a click. “Don’t tell Ian what?” Ian asked, shrugging off his jacket. 

Lip and Mickey sat in stunned silence for three seconds before Lip started laughing almost a little hysterically. Guy desperately needed sleep, that was for damn sure. 

“Nothing!” Mickey said quickly after that, shaking his head. “C’mon, man, let’s go.” He got up from the couch, grabbed Ian’s arm and pulled him upstairs, desperate to get him away from his dumbass brother before he spilled his guts. 

Lip’s laughter could be heard outside the house. 


End file.
